Stories / Harry Potter & House, M.D.
The Return of Gregory House
When Neville Longbottom falls victim to a Death Eater act of terrorism years after the war, Master Healer Hermione Weasley makes the desicion to ask banished wizard Gregory House to help in order to save the life of a war hero.
Content History
Hermione Weasley sat at her desk at St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries rubbing her temples.
Neville Longbottom was lying in a bed in a private room, tucked away from everyone else and it was all her fault.
He had such an odd array of magical afflictions that the healers wondered often if he was having an adverse reaction of their treatment or that his affliction was morphing into something else.
Augusta Longbottom visited frequently, sometimes more often than the healers in Neville’s ward would like. She always showed up with a flurry of questions that caused the more accomplished healers to fluster and the newer ones to scurry.
Hermione looked at the large shelf of books in front of her. Every bizarre ailment that had ever come through St. Mungo’s was in front of her. She had it teleported up from the records department last week and had spent most of her time pouring over the dusty texts. She had found nothing.
If she didn’t cure Neville he would die. The Longbottom line would end. Most importantly, she would lose a friend.
She had lost too many friends.
The war had been long and bloody and there had been heavy losses on both sides.
Dumbledore and Snape, of course. And then there were the ones that no one saw coming.
Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan were killed in their bed in Hogsmede one spring night years after the war had ended. Lavender Brown had been killed at the primary school she taught at, alone with several dozen Muggle children. Padma and Parvarti had been killed in Diagon Alley with their daughters when they were out shopping for the day.
There were a handful of Death Eaters that had avoided the Aurors and they still caused trouble from time to time.
Hermione steepled her fingers and touched her forehead to them in thought.
There was another solution. Well, not really a solution, but the chance she could find someone that had a solution. It was unorthodox, of course. Highly controversial.
He’d had his wand snapped in half for illegal experimental medical treatments. He had no respect for authority or guidelines. He was a hazard as far as Hermione was concerned.
He was also their last chance.
Gregory House cracked an eyelid and groaned as the sunlight hit his pupil. He tried to move, but pain shot through his leg. It was going to be one of those days.
House reached out and cracked the drawer of his nightstand. His hand found the small brown bottle without looking. He flipped the top off with his thumb and poured some pills into the palm of his hand. He knocked them back into his mouth without caring exactly how much he was taking as long as it was more than one.
Ha lay on his back with his eyes shut, waiting for the pain to subside. He counted slowly to one hundred. Then he concentrated on the rhythm of his breathing.
That was when he heard the flutter of wings.
He frowned and opened one eye.
There was a large brown owl perched on the footboard of his bed. It had a scroll case attached to one leg.
He opened the other eye and stared at the bird. He reached into the nightstand without taking his eyes from the owl and removed the brown bottle. He read the label through his blurred just-waking vision. It was the right prescription.
“Great.” House said in a worn out voice. He closed his eyes again and fell back on his pillow. “Perfect start to a perfect day.”
The owl hooted softly.
Suddenly, House violently threw the brown bottle at the owl.
It dodged.
“Go away!”
The owl made an angry sound and shook its leg at House. The scroll rattled inside the decorative case. House saw the seal on the case and groaned.
“Oh I see, they have a problem and now they want me.” House said sarcastically. “Well you can tell them to bugger off.”
The owl hooted in a determined way.
House swung his legs over the side of his bed and sat up. He reached for his cane and glared at the owl.
“And you can bugger off, too!” He gave the owl a firm poke with the end of his cane. The owl tottered for a moment and looked offended, but merely hopped out of reach and hooted louder.
“Fine! Stay as long as you like! Mice are in the garden, bathrooms second door down the hall on the left! Make yourself at home!”
House winced as he got to his feet. He stormed from the bedroom to the bathroom and slammed the door.
The last thing he needed was to be reminded of his past.
His father had gotten his transfer papers when House was three. According to Blythe House, her young son was amazed at all the tall buildings in London, but had been overwhelmingly unimpressed with all the rain. As soon as he was old enough for schooling he attended the Edinburgh Academy in Scotland.
When he reached his eleventh birthday an owl had arrived at the House residence and at the beginning of the new school year young Gregory was headed for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
He had excelled at Transfiguration and Potions. When he graduated, St. Mungo’s was happy to oversee his training as a healer.
Then he had been caught using questionable techniques in his research. Then his research notes showed he was dabbling in the Dark Arts in order to get some of his research information.
They had snapped his wand in two. Claimed his dedication to the Healing profession and his obsession with gathering knowledge obscured his view of the patient. They said he was scarily near to becoming a dark wizard.
Since he hadn’t harmed anyone, the reasons given in his argument were rooted in the healing profession and he had no personal gain whatsoever from his actions, he had gotten away from a prison term in Azkaban.
He still dreamed about the cracking sound the wood made and how it dangled for a moment before the unicorn hair broke.
Now that stupid owl was sitting in his bedroom waiting for him.
Well, the damn owl could keep waiting. House had waited for years in vain before accepting his fate as a Muggle diagnostician.
He had a comfortable life as a Muggle. He had food and comfortable home. He had a challenging job that allowed him to forget about the pain in his leg for moments.
His leg.
The Muggles had bungled it and he lived with it rather than seek out magical healing in the US.
If they didn’t need him, he didn’t need them.
But it looked like they did need him.
He wondered for a wild moment if Cuddy had contacted them.
He filled his bathtub and spilled some bath salts that smelled like herbs into it. He tossed in a rubber duck and a floating soap dish with a bar of soap clamped into it.
He undressed as the tub filled and thought about it for a moment.
It was highly unlikely she even knew about magical healing; let alone how to contact St. Mungo’s.
He lowered himself into the tub and soaked while he mindlessly made his rubber duck putter around the floating soap dish.
It really was worth a shot.
He didn’t have any cases active and he still had to hire a new staff. He had plenty of holiday time and if they really had something, the proper paperwork would be secured to make Cuddy think he was working at a Muggle hospital.
As much as he hated England, he missed the raucous carousing women you could find in certain pubs. He allowed himself a small smile.
Even if he walked out on St. Mungo’s he could still amuse himself for a couple weeks.
He scrubbed off and pulled the plug in the tub.
He slowly lifted himself from the tub and threw on a dark blue bathrobe.
He threw open the bathroom door and walked, dripping water with each step, back to his bedroom. The owl was predictably still waiting for him. It hooted at him and looked completely annoyed.
“It’s your lucky day, Owl.” House said to it simply as he reached for the scroll case. “You’ll be on your way soon with a positive reply instead of sitting here indefinitely with a scroll dangling from your leg. Aren’t you the lucky one?”
House’s eyes swept over the parchment and he squinted his eyes. Pictures that moved had been imbedded into the page so he could better examine them. Fascinating.
The right big toe was actually glowing slightly green.
He looked accusingly at the owl as if the creature had kept him from looking at the fascinating page. The owl stared at him, waiting for him to write his reply so he could leave on his return journey.
“All right. It’s interesting.” House admitted to the owl. “And the name that signed it isn’t someone I know. They seem to be sincere.”
He hobbled over to a desk where he scribbled a reply.
“I’m sending you with a second message for the owner of the Leaky Cauldron. It will include my boarding needs. See that he gets it.” House placed his reply to St Mungo’s into the scroll case and the letter to the Leaky Cauldron in a manila envelope. He attatched them to the owl’s leg and looked at it.
The owl blinked before he hooted.
“Oh! Sorry!” House shuffled back to his kitchen and opened his refrigerator. The chicken he had bought at the grocery store the night before was still sitting on the shelf, waiting to be prepared into dinner.
House wrestled with the packaging before he shoved his hand into the carcass and fished out the liver. He put it on a plate and washed his hands and brought it back to the owl. The owl ate it happily and hooted a goodbye to House before it took flight again and went out the window it had entered through.
House blinked for a moment before he scratched his head and walked back to his desk where he would compose a letter to Cuddy, requesting his vacation time.
Gregory House stood in front of his fireplace and fingered the packet of Floo Powder Hermione Weasley had sent to him. His house had temporarily been connected to the Floo Network and this packet would get him to Mexico and his first transfer.
This was his literal first step back into the world of magic. He threw the packet into the small fire he had built and watched green flames leap up in the hearth. He clamored down into his small fireplace and pulled his luggage in with him. He spoke clearly: “Tijuana Station.”
He watched as the world around him blurred. He saw glimpses of rooms as he flew through the network down to Mexico: a jolly bright room with yellow wallpaper and green furniture; a dingy basement filled with cobwebs and wooden crates; a sparkling white kitchen where two small blonde children were amusing themselves with toy cars; an opulent room lavishly done in burgundy and gold, dark soft velvet covered the bed where a middle aged couple were passionately making love.
House laughed to himself as more rooms blurred by. They really should put curtains over these things.
Suddenly he found himself looking into what looked like a busy bus station, but instead of busses, people were stepping out of and piling into fireplaces. He stepped out and pulled his luggage along with him.
His eyes searched around and finally fell on a small blue kiosk with a sign that read: Tickets.
He slowly made his way to the kiosk and told the small blonde witch his name. She handed him another packet of powder and directed him to a bank of fireplaces rimmed in green. He thanked her and made his way through the crowds of bustling travelers.
Annoying it may have been, but it sure beat a Trans-Atlantic fight with a screaming toddler kicking the seat behind him.
From Mexico, he found his way to Brazil where he saw an obnoxious woman in a large yellow hat berating the small dark haired man running the ticket booth in Russian. From what House could catch, she was expecting to show up in Canada.
From there he went to what looked like an abandoned oil barge surrounded by miles of ocean where the fish and chips were excellent and the entertainment was a goblin cabaret act.
House leisurely ate his fish and chips while he waited for his transfer. When he saw a fireplace glow pink he made his way to it and transferred to Ghana. When he arrived his nostrils curled at the intense smell of pepper soup simmering in a large cauldron nearby. He quickly transferred to France and then to London, finding himself startled by the presence of a brown haired young man holding a card bearing his name.
“Doctor Gregory House?” The young man looked unsure, but House couldn’t imagine anyone else matching his description coming through an international fireplace when he was expected.
“You’ve got me.” House reluctantly held his hand out and shook the young mans.
“I’m Ebenezer Woods. The Board of Advanced Healing and Experimental Therapies sent me to retrieve you.” The man looked immeasurably proud at being handed this task.
House sized him up. He couldn’t be more than 20 or so, his hair needed a trim and his eyes had the glazed look of the over-caffeinated. Probably still going through his internship.
“Well, Mr. Ebenezer Woods, what does the Board have in store for me?”
Woods ushered House to what looked like a service elevator and they rose to a condemned building on a dirty abandoned street where a shiny black Bentley waited for them.
“Nice wheels,” House commented as he and Woods put his luggage in the boot. A dark haired man of medium build sat in the drivers’ seat. He had started the engine as they had walked out of the building without even looking at them.
During the ride to the Leaky Cauldron he confirmed Woods was still completing his internship and that the Longbottom case was the most fascinating thing House had ever heard of.
“It’s an even brighter green than when we took the pictures to send you. He’s unconscious, but still writhing in pain. The toe almost seems to be withering.” Woods made a face, crumpling up his long thin nose in disgust.
“Interesting.” House said quickly after Woods brought him up to date with Neville’s condition. “So am I going to get a wand?”
Might as well get it all out in the open right now, House figured.
“I have no idea.” Woods blurted out. The kid displayed his every though on his face. House knew he was telling the truth. “You’ll have to ask Healer Weasley.”
“And who is Healer Weasley? Besides being the person that wrote me a ‘please come home’ letter.” House asked. He gazed out the window and watched idly as the streets zoomed by.
“She’s the head of Experimental Therapies at St. Mungo’s.” Woods explained. “Brilliant researcher, and a war hero herself.”
“So I’m being called back because this is a friend of hers.” House was disgusted. “Must be nice to be so powerful.”
“When the rest of the world cowered, Healer Weasley was there with Harry Potter helping to defeat the Dark Lord. She took out a hor—"he seemed to stumble over the word. “She took out a piece of the Dark Lord herself.”
House blinked.
“You mean the people that really did something?” House squinted at Woods incredulously. “Not that stupid group that thought they deserved something because they worked at the Ministry and survived the occupation?”
Although House had left the Wizarding World, he still had a friend and classmate that also become a Muggle doctor in India and he couldn’t help but keep up with snippets of things, although he had made it quite clear to his friend that he didn’t want anything to do with the Wizarding World ever again. A war was hard to miss, though.
“Oh no! Healer Weasley was with Harry Potter at the fall along with Professor Longbottom! They really saw it!” Woods looked around as if he thought someone would overhear them. “I hear she petitioned to perform a Muggle autopsy on the Dark Lord herself before she had even started her internship!”
From his tone House gathered that Woods placed that act at the same rank of ‘dancing through the Great Hall on Halloween wearing only a gorilla mask and farting at the Slytherins’ on his list of cheeky things to do.
“Really?” House chewed on this for a moment. Sounded like his kind of supervisor, if he had to choose one at all.
“Leaky’s just up the road here!” Woods exclaimed as they turned a corner. He seemed far too excided to be driving around to be anything but pureblooded. House chuckled to himself. He had forgotten how amusing that was at times.
“Can you still get to Diagon Alley through the back?” House asked.
“Of course!” Tom said brightly
House wondered what would happen if he strolled over to Ollivander’s, explained he was working for St. Mungo’s again, and let the wand choose him.
Would the old man even let him in the door or would his picture be on a wall someplace under the heading: Banned Customers?
He’d have to look for legal loopholes with that one.
Their car pulled up to the shabby entrance to the Leaky Cauldron and Woods once again helped House with his bags. House watched as Woods tapped his wand on the drivers arm and the driver nodded politely and drove off.
“That wasn’t a person, was it?” House asked, watching the car vanish around a turn.
“No, it was an auto-pilot.” Woods chuckled. “Another invention from Weasley’s Wonders. Don’t know how they come up with such clever things.”
They wrestled their baggage through the door and Woods rushed off to find the owner of the Leaky Cauldron.
House looked around him. Three witches fussing over their knitting sat in a cozy corner, their spoons rotating in their teacups without the help of human hands. A young family with a small black haired baby sat in a booth quietly enjoying their meal. A scruffy, short wizard was trying to show a disinterested party whatever he had on the inside of his cloak.
“Mundungus Fletcher?” House said, completely astounded.
The small wizard jumped and spun around, tucking his cloak tightly around him. It jingled softly.
Mundungus squinted at House for a moment before his eyes went wide.
“Great thunder, House! How are you?” Mundungus bustled over to clasp House’s hand. “Haven’t seen you in years! What have you been up to?”
“I’m a Doctor in the United States.” Mundungus winced at the brassy American accent. “St. Mungo’s asked me to come out to look at a case.”
“Come crawling back, did they?” Mundungus looked appraisingly at House. “Told you they would.”
“That you did.” House smiled briefly. “Come on Dung; let me buy you a pint.”
Mundungus, never being one to turn down a free drink from a non-enemy happily agreed and they were settling down in a booth with their pints when Woods returned.
“Never give you a moment, do they?” Mundungus remarked as Woods hurried over.
“Slave drivers.” House remarked as he sipped at his pint. “God, I forgot how good goblin breweries were.”
“Join us for a drink?” House asked Woods as he got into hearing range.
“Might as well.” Woods surprised House with his answer. “Your things are being settled in and I was told to make sure you’re comfortable. A few pints are always comforting to me.”
House snorted.
Either this Weasley witch was incompetent or deviously clever when choosing the person to retrieve him. He sipped his pint again. Either way he’d reconnected with Mundungus. If there was ever a person that could find something obscure or forbidden it was Dung.
Mind you, he almost never touched the stuff, but he always knew where it was so he would know where to avoid.
Woods drew up a pint and House’s stomach churned as he listened to Mundungus and Woods discuss the Quidditch match being broadcast over the small Wizarding Wireless radio in the corner of the pub. It had been so long since he was away and the world had just gone on. It just didn’t seem right.
After their second round House clapped his hands together. “We may as well get all this over with. I’ll catch up with you later, Dung.”
“Remember what I said about telling people you were bitten by a dragon! The birds will love it!” He tipped his hat jovially as a passing young witch who gave him a startled look and hurried away.
“I’ll keep it in mind.” House nodded seriously at Dung and he swiveled off his stool and followed Woods out to the street. Their car swiveled around the corner to pick them up.
“Can you import to those to the US yet?” House asked seriously.
“Ministry issue only, I’m afraid,” Woods apologized.
“Figures.”
House and Woods soon found themselves in front of old store front. House felt a shiver down his spine. He popped a Vicodin.
They walked through the window of the old department store and found themselves in the lobby of St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.
A pleasant looking blonde witch waved at them from a podium off to one side. Woods nodded at her before ushering House off to a lift.
House saw a small blonde girl of about four with antennae pirouetting in front of her father, who was watching her with an amused look. “You take after your mother’s side, I swear.”
A few chairs away from him a middle aged witch was berating her suffering husband. “Wanted to show everyone how smart you were! Now see where it’s gotten you!”
The man seemed to have tomato vines growing out of his ears.
“We’re going to Healer Weasley’s office on the Fourth Floor.” Woods said. She’s usually in there.
House sighed as their elevator went up to their floor. To his relief no one with any strange maladies boarded with them and her office was easy to find.
Woods walked in without knocking and House found himself looking at one of the youngest department heads he’d ever met.
“How do you do?” Hermione Weasley rose from behind her desk, pictures and notes were spread over its surface. “I’m so glad you decided to give us a look.”
“What can I say? The story had a good hook.” House shook her hand and sat in the black leather chair in front of her desk.
“This is his complete file.” Hermione gestured at her desk. “I’ll have it packed up so you can take it with you to review tonight. Tomorrow you can tell us if you’re interested and then we can hammer out your compensation.”
“You’re not going to make me an offer now?” House looked disbelieving.
“Doctor House, your reputation precedes you. I don’t expect you to be swayed by the goodness of your heart or the money we offer you. What I do guarantee is that this case has boggled the rest of us and we have come to you because we thought you would find it worth your time.”
“So you come to the outcast now that you need something?”
“We come to the best. Your wand may have been snapped, but we study your research and theories in advanced healing classes.”
House looked at her, stunned. “You’re kidding.”
Hermione shook her head.
He threw his head back and laughed bitterly. “Typical! I don’t know why I’m surprised.”
“The Ministry has changed a lot in the last few years. We could possibly have your case reopened.”
House examined the woman. She was deviously clever.
“But of course that can be something we discuss tomorrow.” Hermione smiled at him silkily.
House chuckled. “What time is good for you?”
“About noon. We can have lunch and discuss your requirements. I’ll send the car around 11:40.”
“Done.”
House walked into Healer Weasley’s office at noon.
She had lunch selections spread out on her desk and a light blue folder in her hand. “You’ve been up all night. Eat something.”
House looked at her through blurry vision. He was his usual unshaven and rumpled self, maybe moving a bit slower than usual. He tried to glare but his heart just wasn’t in it.
It was a genuinely interesting case. She was right. He had been up all night going over Neville’s case. More than once he had made use of the Floo network in his room at the Leaky Cauldron and popped his head through to the all hours research department at St. Mungo’s so he could bark out an order for a book outlining obscure curses and cures.
The research department was already hoping he would turn down the offer that hadn’t been officially made yet.
House looked at the spread on Weasley’s desk. There was tea and cola. He noticed she had a Muggle water cooler in the corner of her office. He wondered how she got service in here. There was a plate of sandwiches and upon closer inspection he found she had an odd assortment with selections like corned beef, fried egg, grilled cheese, tuna, and turkey.
“This is your normal lunch?” House blinked at the plate before taking a fried egg sandwich. He sprinkled some ketchup he found on a small tray of condiments on it.
“Beans?” Weasley took the top off a small clay pot. House peered into the pot and nodded. Hermione ladled out a serving of beans into a small bowl. “Not in a million years has this been normal lunch. The kids decided they would be nice today and be helpful. Last time they managed to serve the whole department.”
House looked at the woman standing before him. She looked young, but sometimes you couldn’t tell with witches.
“You manage to run a department and still have a family?” House felt a bit of remorse. If he’d managed to stay here he’d probably still have a normal life, too. And a healthy, working leg.
“I have a daughter.” Weasley selected a corned beef sandwich for herself. “But she has cousins and we switch off child watching days. My husband is watching them today and they decided on a culinary project. Better than a toy testing day. The last time I came home half the living room was gone.”
House choked on his sandwich. “You’re joking.”
“I wish I was.” Weasley sighed. “But Ron’s a toy inventor and sometimes when you’re dealing with magic…”
“Must’ve been a helluva toy.”
“That one went directly to the scrap heap.” Weasley said firmly.
House finished his sandwich and reached for a second one. He dipped it into his beans and began eating it. When he started feeling vaguely human he nodded at the folder Healer Weasley had been holding.
“Anything new with the patient today?”
“The toe is slightly smaller and he broke out into boils overnight.” Weasley shook her head. “We started counter hexes for the boils and it looks like they’re fading. At least we’re doing something right.”
“I’ve decided to take your offer.” House said, sliding his empty bowl onto her desk.
“We haven’t officially made you an offer yet.” Weasley pointed out.
“So make one.” House made a face that may have been a smile if his face hadn’t been so tense.
“Well, your lodgings have been paid for. Your transportation is working out, I take it?”
“Yes, but how do I get him to come if you haven’t sent him?”
“We’ll give you a summoning pin. You give it a tap with your…” She trailed off. “Huh.”
“I see a glitch in this.” House said, the same self satisfied look on his face.
“I can enchant one this afternoon so all you have to do is give it a rub.” Weasley smiled at him sweetly. He knew she couldn’t give him a wand, but it wouldn’t stop him from bringing it up.
“Oh come on,” House pestered. “It would be easier for everyone if you got me a wand. Just a little one?” He squinted at her, holding his finger and thumb about an inch apart in front of his face.
“We’re also willing to offer you these terms for your assistance.” She passed him the blue folder as she ignored his request.
House opened it and scanned the page full of sums and details of tasks assigned to him. He’d have done it for far less, but it was the thought that counted.
The open St. Mungo’s account for supplies intrigued him.
You didn’t need a wand to fly a broom, after all.
“It all seems to be in order.” House said as he flipped the folder shut. “I officially accept your offer.”
“If you would like any changes in your arrangements, say with your lodgings-”
“I like the Leaky Cauldron. It has access to Muggle London and the Wizarding World, Tom’s cooking is decent, and housekeeping is willing to do your laundry for a reasonable fee.”
“Splendid.” Weasley waved her wand and the remnants of lunch disappeared. “Woods will be by in a moment to show you to your office. Is there anything you have any questions about in the meantime?”
“Well, I have a few about the patient and the method of madness that’s been applied thus far.” House said.
Weasley stiffened. “From his file you can see we didn’t know what we were working with. Still have no idea what we’re working with. We tried everything we could think of.”
“Including the treatment for people suffering from long term effects of the Cruciatus Curse without proof it was present.” House said sarcastically as he got to his feet.
“He was howling in pain! We had no idea it was from a bone bending hex!”
“You could have tested his joint strain in 10 seconds!”
“We didn’t have the kind of time to research 18th century hexes! We had to guess and Cruciatus was the most probable!”
“You just wanted him to stop screaming so you could feel like something you were doing was working! You acted blindly without thinking! Your ineptitude could have blinded him! You should have just given him a Draught of Living Death and shoved him in the Silent Ward for a few hours!”
“It’s unethical to put someone in a coma just because you’re flustered!”
“No, it’s better for their eyes to melt out of their sockets.” House sneered. “Better to be awake in case you need to sign a release form.”
“If you’re just going to act like a complete wanker about things that are clear in hindsight you can take your theories and just chuff it back to the states. We did what we thought was right and until you come up with something else you’re not doing any better than us.” Weasley snapped back at him.
House noticed she was gripping her wand so tightly her knuckles were white. He felt the hairs on the back of his head stand up. Must be a draft.
The door to Weasleys office flew open and hit the wall with a bang.
Weasley and House jumped and stared at Woods, who was out of breath from running.
“It’s Longbottom!” Woods panted. “The toe that was green!”
“What’s happened?” Weasley said, looking alarmed.
“It’s gone!”
“Gone?” House echoed.
“Disappeared!” Woods looked like he couldn’t quite believe it himself. “Poof! Vanished!”
Hermione looked at House briefly before turning and running out of her office.
“Well, Woods.” House said to the young man. “Show me to the patient. It seems he’s in need of a doctor.”
House and Woods made their way through the halls of St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries after Master Healer Hermione Weasley.
“Does she normally leave injured people in her wake?” House asked as they rounded a corner to find a healer sprawled on the floor, files lay scattered around him. “Quite a racket you have going on here.”
“Not as many as one might expect.” Woods made an abrupt left turn and pushed open a set of wooden double doors.
The patient was in his bed. His back was arched in pain so severely it seemed as if only his heels and head were touching the bed.
Healer Weasley watched with a look of horror on her face.
An aged old witch with a stuffed vulture perched precariously on the brim of her hat clutched Healer Weasley’s arm with bony, claw-like fingers.
House pushed his way through the Healers that were working on calming down the patient with every pain killing spell they knew. He was accidentally hit with a spell as he reached for the patient’s head and a wave of relief rushed through him.
“Thank you.” House said cheerfully to the startled young witch that had accidentally cast a spell on him. He dropped his cane and pulled a black stoppered bottle out of his pocket.
“Where did you get that?” Weasley demanded.
“The Potions Repository last night. Thought it might come in handy.” House poured the potion into the patient’s mouth, open and contorted in pain. The thick light blue liquid poured over his tongue and House forced the patient’s mouth shut.
In a few moments House began to notice the thrashing was slowing down. He watched as the young man’s face relaxed as he settled peacefully on the bed.
House cautiously let go of the patient’s head and took a step back.
“What did you just do?” The old witch looked up at House and scowled.
“Stopped his pain.” House said, putting the stopper back in the bottle with a flourish. “Temporarily, at least.”
The witch hobbled up to the patient and looked down at him.
The patient was still a young man. Dark hair swept over his sweaty brow. His round face was peaceful. There were red lines where his face had been contorted in pain.
“He needs a proper bath.” The old witch declared. She rounded on House. “Do you think you can manage that, or shall I fetch a basin of water?”
“He’ll be bathed immediately.” Weasley jumped in before House could say anything. She looked at a young healer that had pulled the blanket back to see the damaged foot. “Prepare a cleansing cart for the patient, please.”
The young witch looked as if she would be rather be examining the patient’s foot, but nodded and left the room.
Hermione touched the foot with her wand, examining it. House moved closer so he might get a better look.
The toe was gone. The area where the toe used to be was glowing slightly greenish.
“He’s been forcibly splinched.” House muttered as he looked at the foot. “Someone’s collecting little pieces of him.”
Hermione suddenly turned around. “Mrs. Longbottom, I know you want to be involved with everything we do-
“Say no more girl. He’s in no pain now. I’m getting a cup of tea from the lobby. By the time I get back you may be closer to stopping this thing.” Mrs. Longbottom looked pointedly at House. “Put an anti-apparition field around him.”
House nodded awkwardly at her, avoiding her gaze. “I’ll see that it gets done.” For the first time he felt embarrassed for not having a wand. The woman made him nervous. As if she could look right into him.
House shivered. Some of the old witches could and would do just that if they felt like it. He never was very good at Occlumency. One of his old teachers remarked it was like House wasn’t even trying to cover his thoughts; it was as if he shouted them out for the world to hear.
“I’ll do it myself. We’ll do the whole hospital. We’ll do our best for him.” Weasley reassured Mrs. Longbottom.
House thought it sounded like she was babbling, but the old witch nodded, the vulture on the brim of her hat bobbing. “That you do. Just don’t stop.”
“Not in a million years.” Weasley quirked a crooked smile at the old woman.
After the witch had tottered from the room House let out the breath he was holding. “That woman makes me nervous.”
“If she didn’t I’d wonder if something was wrong with you.” Hermione snorted as she turned her attention back to the patient’s foot. “Half the Wizarding World fears Neville’s gran.”
“The glowing is peculiar.” House remarked as he gave the patient’s foot a poke with his cane. “I think it’s the Avada Kedavra.”
“But how?” Weasley didn’t sound surprised at all.
“You already thought of this?” House hazarded.
“When the toe started withering I noticed blood had stopped going to it. It was like the foot was rewiring itself to not include the toe. Blood vessels were cauterizing themselves and refusing together.” Hermione made a strange little poking motion with her wand and the blood vessels in Neville’s foot glowed golden, the rest of his foot began to fade until it was transparent. “See. Now it’s moved to a new part of his foot. I had to see what happened to make sure.”
House looked at Weasley. She looked tired and frustrated. “I’ve had to work on a coworker before. I can’t imagine it would be easy to work on a friend.”
“Nothing in life is easy, Dr. House.” She used her wand to tilt the foot slightly. “Especially in this field.”
“I want a full examination for him.” House moved the patient’s blanket off him. “Strip him. Poke him. X-ray him. Take his blood. Can we get an MRI?”
“What do you think?” Hermione looked curious.
“I think if he has body parts vanishing we should make sure all his organs are intact.”
“Blatant disregard for procedure!” Woods spluttered behind Weasley as they stormed through a Muggle hospital, Weasley liberally casting memory charms on Muggle doctors and patients that happened upon them.
The patient floated behind them as if he were on an invisible gurney.
House was trailing behind everyone and chuckling. He pulled a pill out of his jacket pocket and dry swallowed it. It strained his leg to keep up this kind of pace and it was starting to throb.
Maybe he could convince that blonde healer to hit him with another pain killing spell.
“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do!” Weasley growled. “These are extenuating circumstances!”
“You could have at least let the Aurors secure the area first!” Woods persisted. “This is madness!”
“I contacted the Ministry.” Hermione said hotly as she slung a spell at a janitor as he wheeled his mop bucket around a corner.
“When did you contact them?” Woods asked suspiciously.
“Right before we went to get Mr. Longbottom.” Hermione said quickly. “I used one of our fastest owls. If they have a problem they’ll bloody well come here to get me.”
She came to an abrupt halt as they rounded a corner and she found herself face to face with half a dozen Aurors.
The tallest was a familiar looking man with unruly brown hair and glasses. He was shaking his head at Weasley and his arms were crossed over his chest. He was tut-tutting.
“Really, Hermione. You couldn’t wait 10 minutes for us to secure the area? What a little outlaw you’ve turned out to be.”
It all clicked. The boy-who-lived was James Potter’s son.
Good thing James was dead or else House would have to listen to that pompous blowhard regale the tales of his entirely-too-lucky-for-his-own-good son as much as possible.
It was hard enough to deal with him when all he had to brag about was Quidditch and being accepted into the Auror program.
“Knew you’d get here sooner or later, Harry. Better late than never, I suppose.” Weasley smirked.
“Ginny’s at the office and I had to Floo the children to your house, so you shut it. It was my night off. Ron was thrilled, I’ll tell you.” Potter snapped.
“Is the area secure?” Weasley asked sheepishly.
“It is now.” Potter frowned at her. “There was someone using it. We can’t just shove Muggles aside so we can use their equipment.”
“I know that.” Weasley’s face burned hotly. “I just wanted to be fast and this is a time when there wouldn’t be many people in this area.”
“Just let us do our jobs, Hermione.” Potter sighed. “It makes things easier on everyone.”
“Fine. You’ll be the first to know next time I decide to take over a Muggle building.” Weasley said testily.
Potter looked past Weasley and his eyes fell on House. He looked a little surprised.
“Oh, Harry! This is our assisting physician, Dr. Gregory House.” Weasley turned to gesture at House. House stepped around the patient’s floating body to shake Potter’s hand. “This is Harry Potter.”
“Thank you for helping out on this.” Potter shook House’s hand and gestured at the floating body. “Neville means quite a lot to the Wizarding World.”
“So do you, from what I hear.” House commented.
“You should never believe rumors.” Potter cautioned, his green eyes twinkling. Thank God the kid had inherited his mother’s personality.
“I never believe fact half the time, who has time for rumors?” House said with a quirk of his head and a tight smile.
“Harry, we really need to move.” Weasley tapped her foot impatiently.
“Well, let’s do this then.” Harry said. “I hope it’s worth the trouble.”
“No matter what we find out, it’s worth it.” Weasley said reassuringly. “Even if it appears to be nothing.”
“So we learned a whole lot of nothing.” Weasley shook her head at Neville’s file.
Weasley, House, Woods, and the blonde healer who House now knew was Megan Conway, sat in a meeting room near Weasley’s office at St. Mungo’s.
“Well, we learned he had whiplash.” House pointed out. “He has all his organs. His brain looks fine. His heart and lungs are clear. And he has a tattoo of a lion on his left buttock.”
Weasley giggled. “Now, that’s confidential. Don’t you go spreading that around.”
Woods snorted and shook his head. “Professor Longbottom. Who would have ever guessed?”
Conway grinned at Woods. “Rar!”
“Shh!” Weasley chided. “Back to his chart and less about his bum.”
House chuckled to himself. He forgot what a small community the Wizarding World was.
“Well, nothing’s changing since he had the Draught of Living Death.” Conway hazarded. “It may have bought us some time.”
“He hasn’t been under long enough for us to decide that.” House got to his feet. “Without his pain to distract you maybe you’re seeing the progression correctly for the first time.”
Weasley flipped the folder shut and watched House pace. “What do you mean?”
“Well, when he first got here what was he like?” House asked.
“He was writhing in pain.” Conway said. “He wasn’t showing anything else.”
“When did his toe change color?” House asked.
“We don’t know.” Woods said reluctantly. “It may have been like that when he came in but we didn’t find it for a couple days.”
“Why not?” House sounded annoyed.
“He was wearing socks when he came in.” Conway said. “We took his shoes off, but not his socks.”
“How did you know to take his socks off?”
“I turned the light off in his room and his foot was sticking out of the covers. It glowed.” Woods shrugged.
“Good for you for even being vaguely observant.” House said. He headed for a chalkboard Weasley had set up in a corner of her office. “What do we know?”
“He’s being splinched.” Woods offered.
“But the anti-apparition protections we have on him should stop that.” Conway interrupted.
“We think the green glow comes from a time delayed version of the Avada Kedavra spell.” Weasley added.
“So without the splinching, when the time bomb goes off next time will the flesh disappear or just stay rotten and attached to him?” House asked. They stared at him blankly. “Anyone?”
“It may be better to lift the protections so the contaminated parts of him are removed as they die.” Woods said hesitantly.
“What would happen if we just removed the problem?” House asked.
“You mean, remove his foot?” Weasley asked, wide eyed.
“I was actually thinking more along the lines of up to his knee.” House said, leaning on his cane and looking at her. “I think this thing puts out feelers into the next area before the change takes place. I want to make sure the contamination is cut out.”
“But if you’re wrong we’ve just wasted him a leg and God only knows how much time.” Weasley rebuked. “If he does have ‘feelers’ there’s no way of knowing whether they’re throughout his system already. Taking the leg may just speed it up.”
“You’re right, Healer Weasley.” House said sarcastically. “I should look at all our other options.” He cupped a hand to one of his ears and acted like he was straining to hear something. “Other options?”
He looked around the room and called out in a sing song voice. “Other opt-ions?!”
Weasley crossed her arms and started grinding her teeth.
“None?” House seemed to ask Woods and Conway as he peered at them.
Woods shook his head and Conway shrugged. House straightened himself and looked at Weasley.
“If you get a better idea, tell me. Until then prep him for amputation.”
“Does she have to be here?” House whined.
Woods wasn’t sure whether he was talking about Weasley or Neville’s grandmother.
Hermione stood before the light wooden door leading to the sterile room, her arms folded. Neville’s grandmother stood beside her, also wearing healer’s robes. There was a small pin of a vulture on the third pleat of her robes.
House looked at her, stunned. “You were an Angel of Death in the Grindelwald wars?”
“You bet your sweet bippy, buddy.” Mrs. Longbottom said with a curl to her lips. “And by chance of fate my records were reviewed and it turns out I never completed my service. I still owe the Ministry 36 hours.”
“It is an honor, madam.” House said as he tilted towards her. He looked at Weasley. “Why does she get to keep her wand?”
“Because she went through the proper channels and got a license instead of going freelance and ending up looking like a mad scientist.” Hermione snapped. “That’s why.”
House sized up Mrs. Longbottom’s challenging expression. “Fair enough.”
“You’d think you’d be more thankful.” Mrs. Longbottom said haughtily. “After all we’ve done.”
“All you’ve done?” House spluttered. Then he trailed off as Weasley took a long slim pouch from inside her robes. The red velvet caught the light as she fiddled with the gold tassel.
“It’s attuned to only perform healing spells.” Weasley said. “And you can only use it under supervision.”
House eyed the pouch suspiciously. “I’m here to do an amputation. That isn’t considered a harmful spell?”
“Not under these circumstances.” Weasley said nervously. She finally had the knot undone.
“The only thing it can’t do is Unforgivables.” Mrs. Longbottom looked at Weasley sharply. “I argued that I could supervise you and it would leave you the option of using… less conventional means.”
“Doesn’t the wand need to choose the wizard?” House asked.
“Ollivander keeps records.” Weasley said. “He knew what would work for you, but as I said, this is one of a kind.”
House looked at her as he reached out and took the bag. “What if we aren’t done in 36 hours?”
“By my estimation he’ll be done in 36 hours if we’re not.” Mrs. Longbottom said.
“No offense, but you’re specialty is predicting death and harvesting power, not actually applying it using healing. You’re not even a real healer, just some sort of battery to be used. How can you supervise me when you don’t know what I’m doing?”
“I expect you to know what you’re doing.” Mrs. Longbottom said sharply. “That doesn’t seem so hard, or is it, Doctor House?”
He ignored the jibe and opened the pouch. He pulled out a long thin piece of white marble. A small blue stone was set in the handle with the seal of St. Mungo’s stamped on it in gold.
“I know it’s heavier than you’re probably used to-” Weasley started to say, but House held up a hand and stopped her.
“I haven’t had anything to be used to wielding besides a cane in years.” House said bitterly. Was that pity for a moment in Mrs. Longbottom’s eye? “This is fine.”
“It has a hair from the same unicorn.” Mrs. Longbottom said. “Your focus should be the same so you won’t have much disorientation from using a wand not tuned to you.”
“Thanks.” House said. Somehow he thought he’d feel more exhilarated than this.
“Good.” Mrs. Longbottom said brusquely. “Now, time to make with the chop. We don’t have a lot of time.”
During the Grindelwald Wars, the Angels of Death were groups of young Healer women that combed battlefields after particularly bad clashes. Their job was to alleviate the pain in the wounded beyond hope and to harvest their remaining life force so they may become temporary vessels for it and use it to heal others quickly.
They were disbanded in the 1940’s and life harvesting was declared Dark Magic by the Ministry in the late 1960’s.
Source material from Harry Potter & House, M.D. © J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros. Discovery, and NBCUniversal. Original story expression © 2007 te'Shara.
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